


You Are Drawing Me To You

by pineapple_tea



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: (weed), Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bath Sex, Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism, Hand Jobs, Liam in panties, M/M, Modeling, Mutual Pining, Panties, Recreational Drug Use, Shotgunning, photography student zayn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-05-05 23:06:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5393651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pineapple_tea/pseuds/pineapple_tea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Photography student Zayn just really needs to pass his class, and his teacher is mad about some bullshit photographer with a series of people posing in the bathtub in lingerie. Having had several people laugh in his face at his begging, Zayn finally resorts to the one person he knows will model for him; Liam Payne. It's only, really, that he's been in love with Liam for a while and putting him in panties might not be the best way to keep his feelings in check...</p><p>in short, after that shitty summary: liam in panties, and zayn taking pictures of him + a dose of mutual pining to keep things interesting</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Are Drawing Me To You

**Author's Note:**

> :)

 

_you are drawing me to you_

_that is your art_

_\---_

_i am drawn_         

                                                       

                            **- _SHE,_ Saul Williams             **

 

 

 

 

  
Louis hasn’t stopped laughing, and it’s been about six minutes. He’s made his point by now, but he keeps glancing at Zayn’s unimpressed face, and doubling over again, clinging to a pillow, almost sobbing with laughter.

 

“Tommo,” says Zayn, two fingers scrubbing through the scruff at the sharpened line of his jaw. “Yes or no, mate?”

 

“Christ,” heaves Louis finally, wiping his eyes. There might actually be tears there, but Zayn can’t tell, he’s glaring too hard. “Never in my life. Bless you, but never in my life, mate.” He lets out a gush of breath, clutching at his stomach. “Fuck if I didn’t need that though, you’ve probably just added five years to me lifespan.”

 

Zayn groans, dropping his forehead to his hands. “I’m fucked, mate.”

 

“Why can’t you snap some of a sunset or summat, why do you need pictures of _that_?” asks Louis, still with a stupid smile on his face as he reaches for the grinder, sprinkling some green from a plastic baggie into it, and giving it a few good turns.

 

“I’m gonna fail, I’m on a knife’s edge, man. My prof is all about this guy who’s really popular in Sweden. Did a series on female sexuality and body modifications, all girls with mad hair and weird piercings.” Zayn passes Louis the papers and the tobacco, before thumping back against the couch cushions, staring up at the ceiling. “I was talking to her, she said it was the best example of modern photography and it’s impact on culture or some shit like that. S’the only thing that’s gonna save me, mate. I just need a model.”

 

“And Hazza’s entire collection of lush bath bombs,” grins Louis, hunched over the in-progress spliff, sprinkling green with a sharp precision.

 

Zayn sighs. “M’gonna be eating ramen ‘till I graduate, if I do this.”

 

“On the positive side,” says Louis, twisting the end of the joint, “you’ll never have to come out to anyone in your photography course ever again.”

 

Zayn lets out a reluctant laugh, fishing in his pocket for his lighter - Batman, given to him by Liam Payne as a ‘placeholder birthday gift’ - and rolls his thumb over it a few times, staring at the spark.

 

“Oi, perk up, mate. No need to send us all down in flames,” says Louis, shifting over to sit pressed up against Zayn, manhandling him until Zayn’s arm is draped over his shoulder, and he’s tucked against Zayn’s side, with his knees in Zayn’s lap. Zayn lights the end of the spliff for him, watching the cherry glow, and Louis hum in satisfaction. “Who’ve you asked?” Louis says, throat a little rough from the first deep inhale.

 

Zayn steals the joint from Louis fingers, cuddling Louis a bit closer. His laptop is sitting open on the makeshift table (pile of beer crates) in front of them, playing a queue of Ren & Stimpy episodes, and both wearing their matching pairs of fuzzy blue socks that Harry had got them for Christmas this year, because the heating in his flat is down.

 

“Asked Hazza first,” says Zayn, after a long inhale, “but he’s got that new boy. Doesn’t want to fuck it up.” He blinks. “This is strong shit, Lou, where’d you find it?”

 

“Sam’s out for now, hooked me up with another of his mates. She’s well fit. Wouldn’t give me her real number, though. Said she had to focus on school.”

 

“That’s fair enough, s’pose,” says Zayn, exhaling again with a pouted bottom lip, before passing it back to Louis.

 

“I’ve got studies as well,” says Louis, sounding mildly affronted.

 

“Not ones that you’re focusing on,” says Zayn with a smirk.

 

“I’ve got things to do, Zayn, places to be, people to see, birds to shag,” declares Louis, kneeing Zayn softly in the stomach.

 

“Can’t tell if you’re lying to just me, or yourself as well,” comments Zayn, feeling the high seep into his skin with the next drag.

 

“Alright, alright,” says Louis. “No need for that. What’s got you avoiding the question?”

 

“What question?”

 

“Who else’ve you asked? You can’t tell me you really thought to yourself, ‘which of my male acquaintances should I ask to model panties for me in a bathtub?’ and then thought, ‘ah, I know, The Tommo will definitely do it, world class lad, innit? He’ll excel at it in fact, his arse will fit those panties just right, really show off that lace, mind you his cock is so enormously large it might not even fit, might just pop out of them and wouldn’t that be-”

 

“Shut the fuck up,” says Zayn, smile fighting to be hidden on his lips. He cuffs Louis round the head, and then lets his arm flop back comfortably across his shoulders. “I’ve asked four people, like.”

 

“Which ones? Which four people?” says Louis, spewing smoke all over Zayn’s face.

 

“Hazza, you, Nialler, an’ Nick,” he says, trying to mumble, so maybe Louis won’t quite hear him.

 

Louis lets out a bark of laughter so loud he falls off the couch with it, lying sprawled on the ground with his feet in Zayn’s lap and the spliff still safely in his hand. He’s laughing loudly and obnoxiously for the second time in less than ten minutes, when Liam walks in.

 

“Alright, boys?” says Liam, slightly bewildered smile already on his mouth as his eyes flick from Louis on the floor laughing, to Zayn, who ducks his head to avoid his own smile.  

 

He’s just in from the gym, that much is obvious, and he drops his keys on the table, pulling off his sweatshirt as he wanders into the kitchen and pour himself a glass of water, leaving the sweatshirt crumpled on the countertop beside the teetering pile of unwashed dishes.

 

His white singlet hangs loose on him, and he downs the water quickly, wiping the his mouth with the back of his hand, and wandering over to sit himself on the couch. Liam and Zayn stare down at Louis, who grins up at them unabashedly.

 

“You smell rank, mate,” says Louis, grinning up at them, and then takes a long pull from the joint, exhaling a thick cloud with fluttering eyelashes, lips curled into a self-satisfied smirk.

 

“Nice try, Tommo,” says Liam, relaxing back into their shitty couch, “showered at the gym already.”

 

“You can choose not to believe me if you want, mate,” says Louis, passing the joint up to Zayn, and scratching absently at his stomach, “but it’s the truth.

 

Zayn takes a deep inhale, and when he opens his eyes to pass the joint on, Liam is staring at him. Zayn breathes the smoke out through soft lips, eyebrows raised. “What, mate?”

 

Liam blinks, forehead creasing, and then he shakes his head. “Nothing bro - uh, what was Lou laughing at when I walked in?” Zayn lets the abrupt change of subject go, Liam’s been stuck in his own head a bit lately. “This must be good shit if it’s got him giggling like a bloody four year old.”

 

“Oi,” says Louis, flailing to kick Liam in the stomach, knocking the breath out of him, even as Zayn says:

 

“Nothing, mate. You want this or not?” He gestures with the joint.

 

“Nah, man,” says Liam, rubbing his injured stomach. “I’ve got a lecturer from Oxford coming or summat, want to be able to think proper, you know?” Zayn’s eyes drop down there for a moment, at the way a sweet gold strip of skin is revealed, but then he looks over to Louis, tearing his eyes away.

 

“Alright,” Zayn says, passing it to Louis instead.

 

He receives it with a slow smile, and a “Don’t worry about it, man, you haven’t smoked with us in ages.” He drops his feet out of Zayn’s lap and kneels up again, elbows on Liam’s knees. “Y’want a shotgun?”

 

Louis looks much higher than he probably is, with soft prints of sleeplessness under his eyes, and a messy fringe. He purses his lips around the end, brow creasing, as the smoke fills his mouth, and then he glances up at Liam who still hasn’t answered.

 

“I don’t think-” says Liam, fingers tangling in the hem of his shirt.

 

“Go on, babe,” says Zayn, smile tugging at his mouth at Liam’s adorable uncertainty. “If you wanna do it, just do it. No sweat.” His knuckles nudge Liam’s shoulder.

 

Liam glances over at him, and then shrugs, pink lips in a reluctant smile. “Alright, you menace, go on.”

 

Louis curls his hands in a tunnel around their mouths, and Zayn plucks the joint from between his knuckles as Louis exhales the smoke into Liam’s mouth. Liam’s eyelids flutter shut, neck curling forwards, dark eyebrows scrunching together as the smoke hits his lungs.

 

He giggles as he pulls back, cuffing Louis round the head with a lazy arm, mouth twisting with a smile as he playfully exhales the smoke over Zayn.

 

“Another?” says Zayn, throat rough, already speaking through a mouthful of smoke.

 

“Aw, go on, lad,” says Louis, sitting back against the makeshift table in the middle of the room.

 

Onscreen, behind his head, Ren & Stimpy slurp from a ‘tub o mayo’, watching the Superbowl. Liam wrinkles his nose at it, he hates this show, and to distract him, Zayn taps his jaw with a fingertip. “You want another, babe?”

 

Liam loses interest in the screen immediately, “Yeah, go for it,” says Liam. He watches Zayn’s cheeks hollow as he sucks the smoke in, and before Zayn can curl his hand into a funnel, Liam is leaning forward, thumbing at Zayn’s jaw until it drops open, and the smoke pours between their open mouths.

 

Zayn huffs a laugh as he pulls away, licking over his own bottom lip, caught up in the searing proximity of Liam, and the catch of his eyelashes over his cheekbones.

 

“What were you gonna ask Payno, again?” cuts in Louis from the floor, pretending to look innocent with his feather-sharp grin.

 

Zayn takes another hit, feels it fizzing through his bones. He can feel Liam looking at him, feel the weight of his gaze, but he lets a stream out through his nose and says, “Nothing. Dunno what you’re talking about, mate.”

 

“C’mon, Zee,” Liam says, lazing back. The high hasn’t hit him -- won’t until he takes a few more shotguns, but he’s relaxed into the atmosphere, arm slung around Zayn’s shoulders, soft cheeks, softer smile.

 

“S’just a thing for photography, like,” mumbles Zayn, “no worries, yeah?”’

 

“You’ll do it, right, Payno?” cuts in Louis. Zayn keeps the joint in his fingers out of spite.

 

“Course I will, you need a model again?” he so easily agrees, without even knowing what it’s for, even after the time he spent with glitter in his facial hair for a whole two weeks, even after Zayn needed someone to drizzle maple syrup over, even after all the ridiculous things Zayn has asked of him to pass this fucking course.

 

Zayn really needs a model, though.

 

Zayn hesitates, maybe a beat too long, because Liam’s brow furrows, and his mouth parts, downturned, like he’s about to doubt himself.

 

“Said he’d do it, Malik,” says Louis, with a grin, “now pass the bloody spliff.”

 

“What?” says Liam, and Zayn leans over to to as Louis says, if only to take some time not to look at Liam. “What is it this time?”

 

Louis giggles, taking a long pull, the cherry seeping down closer to his fingertips.

 

“Zee?” says Liam, thumbing at Zayn’s neck in concern.

 

“It’s a bit weird,” says Zayn, picking up the grinder and fucking around with it so he has something to do with his hands.

 

“He needs you to whack on some panties and pose in a bathtub,” says Louis, smirking. “Pop a bit of a stiffy, and you’re sorted.”

 

“No,” says Zayn, “nothing like that man, it’s not porn. But the panties, like- yeah.”

 

Louis is laughing again - the weed does that to him - but when Zayn looks over at Liam, there’s a bright blush spreading over his cheeks and down his neck.

 

“Up for it, mate?” says Zayn, wry. Louis is lost to the four winds, whimpering ‘ _up for it_ ’ and then collapsing into hysterics again.

 

“You takin’ the piss, Zee?” says Liam after a moment, forehead creased, lips in a confused pout.

 

“Nah,” says Zayn. “My professor thinks its a bloody brilliant idea, and I need to get my grade up, yeah? But, like, no one will do it, so I’ll have to come up with something else, I s’pose.” He rubs at his forehead, weed making him sleepy and a bit floaty, consequences seeming farther away, and at the same time in sharper relief.

 

“Why, um -- why _panties_?” asks Liam after a moment, throat sounding a bit stuck.

 

Louis has calmed down by now, and is stubbing the smoking end of the blunt out in the remains of his tea with an endlessly amused smirk.

 

“It’s like, artistic or some shit, I don’t know man,” says Zayn, fussing with his beanie.

 

“And--” says Liam, “you don’t have anyone to do it?”

 

“Nah, I asked like, half a dozen people mate, all of ‘em laughed in my face,” says Zayn, raising his eyebrows and Louis, and reaching forward to flick him on the forehead to see him wince. He deserves it, the prick.

 

“Oh,” says Liam faintly. Liam’s arm slips off the back of the couch, where it was previously slung around Zayn’s shoulders, and into Liam’s own lap.

 

“Not cause, like, I didn’t want you to do it, man” says Zayn, breath almost stuttering at the way Liam has drawing into himself, that wide-eyed, vacant look he gets when he wants to disappear. “I just-” he gets stuck on his words, and glances over to Louis for help, whose expression is too raw around the edges for Zayn to look at either, like he’s realised that he’s gone too far, perhaps.

 

Thing is, he _knows_ Liam has trouble with his body image, he _knows_. And he still does shit like this accidentally, letting Liam think shit about himself for all the wrong reasons.

 

“I mean, if you still want to do it, man,” says Zayn, “I would owe you, like a huge fuckin’ amount. Like, a lot of beer and pizza, I swear.” He huffs a laugh that maybe sounds a little strained, but the weed and the nervousness are a bad combination and he’s starting to get jittery.

 

“Yeah,” says Liam, and he pulls his phone out to glance at the screen. “I’ve got to go,” he says, a bit abruptly, but Liam has never been the best at subtlety. “Course I’ll still do it, Zaynie,” he says hurriedly, almost stumbling over Louis’ outstretched legs. “But I’ve got to get to my course.”

 

He throws on his hoodie, throwing a muffled, “Bye, lads,” through the thick fabric, before he tugs it properly into place, and stumbles out the door.

 

There’s a pause.

 

“Christ,” says Louis, “that was fucking _painful_.”

 

“I am going to end your life, Lou,” hisses Zayn. And then he buries his head in his hands, perhaps a little overdramatically. “Shit.”

 

\------

 

“These?”

 

“Um, yeah. Sorry, bro.”

 

Zayn watches as Liam lets the airy lace spill between his fingers, looking down at the soft pink panties in his hands like he’s a bit lost.

 

“Christ,” says Liam, and then swallows. He won’t stop staring at them, even as Zayn turns the tub on.

 

“Alright, bro?” says Zayn. He didn’t think Liam would be this… affected. Well, he’d known that there might be some initial awkwardness, but not this...something. He’s not sure what’s sticking in his airways right now but he can’t tell if it’s good or bad.

 

Liam giggles, something almost imperceptibly hysterical about the set of his eyebrows, and then holds them up, to the light. “Zayn, these are bloody see-through,” he says in amazement.

 

Zayn laughs, rubbing fingers through the dark scruff along his jaw. “Yeah, m’sorry about that, mate. We’re on a budget. Only the best from ASOS, like.”

 

“Feel proper pampered,” says Liam, shifting nervously, blush staining his cheeks, hesitant smile on his pink, pink mouth.

 

The bathroom is small, warm tones and bold, floral wallpaper on one panel of the sloping ceiling of Harry’s dorm. It’s an old building, the skylight propped open, moss growing over the brown-tiled roof, a view of the patchwork of buildings and unused chimney pots that spreads out over the city.

 

Beautiful, if a little quirky, edging on tastefully tacky, if that could ever be a thing. The tub sits on clawed feet, spray painted silver over the chips in it. Zayn had helped Harry to lift it into the back of Nick’s mate’s truck the first month of uni.

 

And in a bit, Liam is going to be in it, the translucent frilled panties stretching over his cock, a tiny pink bow to crown it--- Zayn steps out of the room with a quick nod, smile not quite sitting right on his face. He’s not sure he likes this, this awkwardness. Liam is usually so easy to just exist with, there’s never any dead air.

 

\----

 

Zayn is trying to keep his head straight, he really is. He’d let Liam pick the music, and they’d ended up with a sick RnB tune in the background, thrumming and smooth under the snap of Zayn’s camera shutter.

 

Liam is ---

 

Liam is spread out and blushing, still in his white t-shirt, fingers twisted in the soaked hem, the fabric almost translucent and sticking to his chest, clinging to the outline of his muscled stomach. His lips are parted sweetly, and the tub is a soft mint green color, the bath bomb smelling of lime and vanilla, a heady, sweet scent that has Liam’s eyes heavy lidded and dark, his hair devoid of product and curling, damp over his forehead and around the tips of his ears.

 

The panties, though.

 

They’re men’s -- soft, and a pale, pale pink, covered in soft little ruffles that catch in the slow swirl of the smooth water. The panties fit Liam so well, smoothing over the defined vee of his hips, and slipping sweetly, frilled, over the crease of his thighs.

 

And Zayn can see _everything_.

 

The weight of the water has the panties clinging to the heavy curve of Liam’s cock. He’s --- he’s trying to hide it, but Liam is half-hard, and it’s keeping Zayn’s throat dry.

 

All Zayn can do is raise the camera again and again, never take it from in front of his eyes, in fact. Keep that sharp click of the shutter as a barrier, only murmuring soft instructions when he has to.

 

Now, through the tiny sight of the camera, Liam gazes up through the skylight, lips red and slick-bitten, shirt clinging to his shoulders, and edging the top of the panties. Liam’s biceps are fucking bulging on either side of the tub, supporting him and the dramatic curve of his back as he lifts his hips out of the water.

 

It’s gorgeous, really, the early-morning light streaming down on him, and the steam rising from the water.

 

“Can you,” says Zayn, and then has to stop to clear his throat subtly, before continuing, “can you just, like, turn over?”

 

Liam huffs a soft, embarrassed laugh, and shifts around, the bathwater sloshing dangerously close to the sides. He places his forearms on the wall, head bowed away from Zayn, thighs spread for balance.

 

“If you could tug your shirt up a bit,” says Zayn. He thinks his voice might be wavering, but his pulse is beating too loud in his ears to be sure. “And, um, arch your back, yeah?”

 

Liam doesn’t verbally reply, but he reaches over his shoulder to tug the shirt up his back a bit, bunching up around the wings of his shoulderblades, the dimples at the base of his spine revealed, and all that light-honey skin gleaming, water droplets trailing down the sweet, muscled curve of his back.

 

Zayn thinks he might be breathing a bit unevenly, but he can’t actually take his eyes off Liam’s arse. The muscled softness of his thighs.

 

Zayn is hard; unwaveringly, embarrassingly, and irrevocably so. He sucks in a breath, and snaps another five or six photos, barely considering any technicalities. He might be ‘in the zone’, or he just might be too far gone to even function.

 

“Just grab the edge of the tub… like that, yeah, perfect,” murmurs Zayn, as Liam’s fingers curl, strong, around the lip of the bath, emphasising the dramatic curve of his back, chin tilted down towards Zayn to highlight the cut of his jaw. The ruffles of his panties barely shadowing the curve of his arse.

 

“Wanna get some shots of you taking your shirt off,” says Zayn quietly, over the low melody of the music.

 

Liam grabs for the hem behind his back, fingers fumbling it, a self-conscious smile quirking at his mouth.

 

“Take it slow, babe,” says Zayn, head spinning. The scent of the bath bomb is filling his lungs hazily.

 

“You shooting a porno, mate?” says Liam, voice just on the deeper side, eyes hidden from Zayn as he slants his gaze away.

 

“God, no,” says Zayn. “No, man- if you feel uncomfortable, like...” there’s a dizzying rush of mortification that soaks Zayn’s skin cold as he trails off.

 

Liam giggles, cheeks bunching, blush only dipping darker down the back of his neck. “M’alright. Take some photos, yeah?”

 

There’s a brief, searing, dizzying flash of a moment where, while Liam slowly pulls his soaked shirt off, that between the camera flashes, Zayn can see himself pressed to Liam’s back, kneeling up in the bath. Open-mouthed kisses sweet and shivery over the nape of Liam’s neck, palms sliding slow over wet skin to palm Liam through those pretty little panties.

 

He makes a soft, wrecked noise, that he can’t stop from leaving his mouth. He prays fervently that the music covered it. He clears his throat as subtly as possible.

 

“Just pause like that a minute,” says Zayn, still crouching awkwardly on the ground with an aching hard-on and a camera between him and his best friend, who Zayn’s been falling for from the moment he was grouped with him for freshers week.

 

The translucent fabric of Liam’s shirt is sticking to his arms, covering the top half of his face. Zayn can’t stop staring at the soft plush of Liam’s lips, shiny and full, the same color as his nipples, where the gorgeous definition of his chest is tilted towards Zayn. Zayn blinks. Lowers the camera almost without a conscious decision to do so.

 

“Feel like a bit of a twat with me shirt like this,” says Liam, lips curving up in a smile. Zayn’s throat isn’t working well enough to answer. “Zaynie?”

 

Zayn knows that Liam must have noticed the lack of camera shuttering, but neither of them move, both of them caught in the silence between the smooth beats of the music.

 

Finally, Liam breaks it. “Zee? I might suffocate with this over me mouth and nose.” No response. “Zayn? S’this about the time me and Tommo stole all your pants for a month? Cause then I think Tommo should have to do this, too, ‘cause it was his idea.”

 

“What?” says Zayn, the surprise startling a laugh out of him, which Liam echoes as he finally tugs the shirt off all the way, and chucks it on the tiled floor, giggling with Zayn, forehead pressed against the wall.

 

“It’s not, right?” says Liam again, looking very pleased with himself at having made Zayn laugh despite the tension in the air.

 

“Maybe,” says Zayn, with a soft smirk, raising the camera again. “Turn over again, yeah?”

 

Liam’s laughter fades off a bit abruptly, and he tilts his head away from Zayn, forehead still pressed to the wall.

 

“Babe?” says Zayn, smirk dropping.

“I, um-” says Liam. His fingers curl against the wallpaper.

 

“If you’re uncomfortable, Li, just say it, yeah? It’s not a problem man,” says Zayn, worry sinking low in his gut.

 

“I’m not- I mean…” he takes a deep breath that sounds abruptly loud in the space between songs on the playlist in the background. “Just, my back is better than my chest, right?” He sounds a bit hoarse. “I’ve been training, but I’ve got a bit of a belly. M’not- like I get why you asked Harry and them first.”

 

“Hazza never works out, Li what- what are you even talking about, babe? He’s got much more of a tummy than you, not that it matters, like,” Zayn stumbles a bit over his words, but he’s caught up in the rush of confusion, and the twisted feeling in his throat at the thought of Liam being so insecure.

 

“I know,” says Liam quietly, “but it would probably be better if you kept to my back, if that’s alright,” he says, blush intensifying on his cheeks, soft, dejected bottom lip and god, he’s so beautiful he drives Zayn fucking mad.

 

“Liam, mate.” Zayn’s a little bit awestruck. “You’re proper fit, babe.”

 

Liam huffs a laugh, squeezing his eyes shut. “I- thanks, Zaynie.” He licks over his bottom lip, “I’m just, uncomfortable, like you said, right? Can you- can you still pass your class with this?”

 

“Yeah, babe,” says Zayn, still a bit mistified. He knows Liam is a bit self-conscious, but it’s never been to this degree before. “Are you sure?”

 

“Just leave it, Zee, yeah?” says Liam.

 

“Liam, what’s going on, babe?” says Zayn, shuffling closer on his knees, setting his camera down carefully on a pile of towels far out of the splash zone, and then coming forward to curl his fingers around the lip of the bathtub.

 

“Zee,” says Liam, like he wants to squirm out of his skin.

 

“Li,” says Zayn patiently, reaching out to touch Liam, and then abruptly realising they’re nothing but warm, wet skin to fit under his fingertips, and he pauses with a breath between him and Liam’s ribs. He rests his hand there anyway, something like a shock running down his arm at the contact. “Babe.”

 

“”M’hard,” mumbles Liam, hands clenching into fists against the wall.

 

“What?” says Zayn, staring dumbly at his hand on Liam’s skin, unable to process that quickly enough.

 

“I’m so stupid,” says Liam, followed by a shaky laugh. “I’m hard, like, I’ve got a proper stiffy.”

 

“Oh,” says Zayn. “Fuck, me too.” He grins up at Liam.

 

Liam blinks at him.

 

“S’just, like, it’s sexy, yeah?” He smoothes his thumb over Liam’s ribs, watching Liam’s eyebrows unfurrow gradually.

 

“Yeah,” breathes Liam, relieved.

 

“It’s actually, like, better for the shoot if you’re hard. If that’s okay, like,” says Zayn, wondering if that’s a step too far.

 

“Oh,” says Liam, “yeah, alright.” He lets out a relieved, breath, but still doesn’t turn around.

 

“Liam.”

 

“Okay,” says Liam, “yeah, just, don’t laugh, alright? Don’t- like, I couldn’t take it if you laughing, Zee.”

 

“Course,” says Zayn, voice a little rough.

 

He sees the little breath that Liam takes in the hitch of his shoulders, and Zayn is so _close_ to him as he pulls his hand back from Liam’s skin. Liam shifts slowly, water washing around him as he eases himself to turn around and sit back in the scented water.

 

The panties hide nothing. Which, realistically, Zayn already knew, but seeing Liam hard, is making him blur a little behind the eyes.

 

It’s just- he can see Liam’s uncut cock, the heft of it under all those delicate frills, the head just peeking over the waistband.

 

“Shit,” says Zayn, without meaning to, and Liam whimpers back in his throat like he can’t even help it.

 

Zayn’s eyes snap up to Liam’s at the sound, and Liam is wide-eyed, lips parted in surprise.

 

“Liam,” says Zayn, licking over his lips, and he can see the way Liam’s eyes track the movement. “Is it okay if I touch you?” Zayn clings to the lip of the bathtub, almost white knuckled.

 

“Um, Christ,” says Liam, voice a little high, “yes, please.”

 

“I’m just gonna-” says Zayn, and then stands up abruptly, tugging off his shirt. “This is alright, yeah?” he says, as he unbuttons his jeans, pausing before he shoves them off his hips.

 

“Yes. Yeah, it’s good. Come on,” says Liam, settling further into the bath, forearms on either side of the tub as he runs his fingers nervously over the edge.

 

Zayn doesn’t think he’s ever looked so awkward taking his clothes off for someone in his life, but he bends over to tug off his socks, and his pants and trousers follow, and before he can think about it, he’s stepping into the tub. Liam raises an arm to catch his wrist as he loses his balance a bit, and then Zayn is straddling Liam’s lap, fighting a gasp as he sinks into the hot water.

 

“Zayn,” Liam murmurs, sliding hot palms over Zayn’s cheeks, and the heady scent of the bath bomb fills the air, and the light from the open skylight is drenching them in cool daylight; like a spotlight, like the bright column of sun where the clouds part. Zayn blinks down at Liam’s wide, dark eyes, and kisses him, fitting their lips together sweetly, damp from the hot air.

 

“Fuck,” murmurs Zayn against Liam’s red lips, their thighs soft and sliding underwater as Liam deepens the kiss, tongue sliding deep into Zayn’s mouth, eyelashes fluttering against Zayn’s cheekbones as their noses nudge.

 

Zayn’s palm slides down Liam’s defined chest, thumb nail biting at one of Liam’s pink nipples. Liam gasps against Zayn’s mouth, little noise bright over Zayn’s lips, sparking a slow smile from Zayn.

 

“That good for you, Leeyum?” whispers Zayn, other thumb sliding down the bridge of Liam’s nose, over the imprint of softness stamped under his eye, over his adorable eyebrows. Liam blinks up at him, lips parted in a tiny smile.

 

“Yeah,” he says roughly, soft look on his face, before he drops his hands from Zayn’s cheeks to slide down his back, resting at the bottom of his spine, holding their bodies closer as he sucks a kiss to the warm hollow of Zayn’s throat, and over his shoulders, his collar bones, up at that breathless spot behind his ear.

 

Zayn squirms in Liam’s lap, cock rutting against Liam’s toned stomach, and he can feel Liam’s dick under him, so hard and thick, and covered by those little ruffles.

 

“Babe, baby,” he breathes, touching Liam anywhere he can. “You’re so fucking hard for me.”

Liam’s wrecked moan of assent has Zayn shivering in his arms. “You like your panties?” Zayn continues, soft and low and desperate, “you look so fucking good in them, Li.”

 

Liam licks a sweet line under Zayn’s jaw, and then leans his forehead there, breathing deep. “Zayn, please.”

 

“I know,” breathes Zayn, palm on Liam’s soft cheek. “Come on, kiss me again.”

 

Liam complies before he can even blink, pressing their open, wanting mouths together in a pop and slick that sucks the breath from Zayn’s lungs.

 

“Baby, lemme touch you,” says Zayn roughly, palms sliding over Liam’s shoulders, never pausing in his movement, their chest sliding together as Zayn ruts over Liam’s dick. “Lemme see those panties properly.”

 

“This is mad,” breathes Liam, “I- you’re mad.”

 

Zayn giggles, both in relief and release, sliding off Liam’s lap. “Come on, Li,” he says, kneeling at the far end of the small tub. “D’you wanna show me, baby?”

 

Liam swallows a bit nervously as he kneels up, water pouring off his skin, slipping the panties ever so slightly down the vee of his hips, exposing the tip of his blushing dick a bit more. “I’m-” says Liam, and then cuts himself off, unsure of what to say, hand cupping the back of his own neck, unconsciously making his biceps bulge.

 

“Oh, god,” says Zayn reaching out to trail his fingertips down Liam’s stomach, sliding through that trimmed patch of hair, that sweet rasp down from his belly button.

 

“Is it?-” Liam, and Zayn’s eyes snap up to his in surprise at the vulnerability still tucked in his voice.

 

“Liam, I don’t understand,” says Zayn, brow furrowed, “you’re so beautiful.” It’s a quiet admission, but no less true, and no less surely spoken for it.

 

Liam giggles, ducking his head. “Christ,” he says.

 

“What?”

 

“I’m being thick again, it’s nothing,” says Liam, silly smile on his pretty mouth.

 

“Talk to me, love,” says Zayn, tangling their fingers together loosely.

 

“Just- I’ve got you in front of me, and I can’t even get over meself to _touch_.” He laughs again, but there’s no humor to it.

 

“You shag people all the time, Li,” says Zayn, blush heating his cheeks. “I’ve been with you when you’ve pulled, yeah? At clubs and shit.”

 

Liam looks at him, wide eyed. “You’re different.”

 

“And you’re different for me, too” says Zayn, and it’s mad how something so real and terrifying can drop out of his mouth so calmly. “S’alright.”

 

“Yeah?” says Liam, with a real smile now.

 

“Yeah,” says Zayn, reaching out to curl a hand around the back of Liam’s neck to draw him in for a searing kiss, snogging him deep and hot and slick.

 

He can’t help but gasp into the kiss as Liam gets a hand around his cock, palm just rough enough with the slide of the bathwater to get him off just right. Zayn moans low into Liam’s mouth, but he pulls away with a soft gasp.

 

“Wait a minute, babe,” he breathes, and Liam looks confused. “You first,” says Zayn.

 

“What? Why?” pouts Liam, dropping Zayn’s hands.

 

“You’re all done up in your little panties, and you’re not even getting the attention you deserve,” says Zayn, sliding his thumb over Liam’s plush bottom lip, pressing into the dip of it, fingers cupping Liam’s jaw. Liam’s eyelashes flutter when Zayn presses in, sliding the pad of his thumb over Liam’s pink tongue, mouth hot and easy for it. Zayn shifts forward on his knees in the bath to breathe into the curve of Liam’s neck. “Let me take care of you, yeah?”

 

Liam moans softly around Zayn’s thumb, cheeks hot. Zayn slicks his thumb out over Liam’s bottom lip with a smile. “Yeah?” Zayn breathes, stroking through his hair, “you gonna let me make you feel good, babe?”

 

“Zayn, please,” Liam murmurs, mouthing over Zayn’s collarbone.

 

Zayn gets two fingers under Liam’s jaw to tilt his head up to Zayn’s level again. “Look down, babe,” says Zayn, fingers anchored at Liam’s chin as he obeys.

 

Now that Liam’s looking, Zayn reaches between them to skate his fingers down Liam’s taught stomach, which Liam makes a tiny noise at, but Zayn immediately kisses that noise away, licking into Liam’s mouth as he tilts his head up for a moment. “You’re so fit, Liam,” he breathes over Liam’s lips. “Drive me fuckin’ wild, yeah?”

 

“You too,” says Liam, with a desperate kind of quietness, and a smile. “Christ, you look so good all the time, Zee.”

 

“Thank you, love,” grins Zayn, and then tilts Liam’s chin carefully down again. “Now let’s try that again, Li.” He strokes over the wet trail of hair that serves as a path between the vee of Liam’s hips. “Gonna wank you off nice and slow,” Zayn promises, “and then I’m gonna dry you off and get you on the bed, still in your panties, and make you come again.”

 

Liam whimpers, and Zayn feels a rush of pride for it. He slicks the tips of two of his fingers over the slit of Liam’s dick, exhaling a little shakily at the thick precome he finds gathered there. “You’ve got yourself all wet,” he murmurs.

 

“We’re in a bathtub,” Liam giggles.

 

“Will you shut it, man,” grins Zayn. “M’trying to get you hot.”

 

“I know, I-” and he sounds too hesitant for Zayn’s liking.

 

“Do you like it?” he says steadily, hand still on Liam’s jaw.

 

“Yeah,” says Liam quietly, like it’s an admission. Like Zayn hadn’t just got his fingers messy with all of Liam’s precome.

 

“Do I like it?” Zayn asks, thumbing Liam’s cheek softly.

 

“I-” he starts, and then he pauses. “Yes.”

 

“Yeah,” says Zayn, “I’ve got a proper stiffy over you, yeah? So what’s the problem, babe?”

 

“S’just. It’s a bit weird, right?” says Liam, lifting his head to look at Zayn finally with a bitten lip and a wrinkled forehead.

 

“If you don’t like it, man, you can take them off. I’ll still fuck you, yeah? Or you can fuck me, I’m not fussed,” he tangles his fingers in the strands of hair at the nape of Liam’s neck. “I just want you,” he says, and it sounds a bit stupid out loud but it’s all he can think. He just wants Liam.

 

“Oh,” says Liam, sounding a bit shocked. “Alright, then.”

 

“Is that- no?” says Zayn, thumbs tucked into the waistband of Liam’s panties.

 

Liam’s hands fly up to catch Zayn’s wrists. “No, leave them on. Sorry. It’s a lot, but I want it.” He strokes shaking fingers up Zayn’s arm to press to his lips, before kissing Zayn, like he’s making sure that Zayn will stay.

 

“Of course, babe,” Zayn says between kisses. “Just wanna make you feel good,” he murmurs, kissing over Liam’s jaw, tugging at his earlobe with quick teeth and a swipe of his pink tongue. “wanna get you all slick and wet and hot for me, wanna kiss you all over, get my mouth on your skin, make you scream for it, love.”

 

He can hear the hitch of Liam’s breath, and he hides his smile in the curve of Liam’s neck.

 

“Yeah, you want it, baby?”

 

“Zayn,” says Liam, desperate.

 

“Gonna take care of you sweetheart,” says Zayn, testing out the endearment. When Liam almost melts against him at his words, he grins. “Yeah, darling? My sweet boy?” Liam whimpers as Zayn breathes pretty words in his ear, palm grinding over the straining weight of Liam’s cock.

 

“You’re a bit dirty, aren’t you,” breathes Liam, even as he grinds his hips up against Zayn’s palm helplessly.

 

“Mean it,” says Zayn, kissing Liam’s cheek. “Want you to feel so fucking good.” Zayn’s cock is hot and heavy between his legs, tip occasionally slicking the crease of Liam’s thigh, but he’s barely able to worry about it at the moment, too stuck on Liam circling his hips down onto Zayn’s hand like he needs Zayn to fall apart. “Look at you, babe, so desperate for it. Good thing you’ve got the head of y’r dick peeking out at me, love, or you’d get your panties all soaked; you’re dripping with it.”

 

Liam’s hands fly up to Zayn’s shoulders for support, fingernails gripping Zayn’s shoulder blades like a lifeline. He’s humping Zayn’s hand, eyelids fluttering, lips wet and parted, leaking a patch onto his tummy.

 

“Can you call me that thing again?” stutters Liam, one hand on Zayn’s shoulder, the other in a vice grip around Zayn’s wrist, trying to keep it in place for him to hump against. “ _Please_.”

 

“Sweetheart?” suggests Zayn, leaving hot kisses at the hollow of Liam’s throat as his adams apple bobs.

 

“No the other one, um, the- the dirty one.” He gasps as Zayn sneaks his index finger over the bared slit of his cock, digging in just slightly, making Liam sob a whimper, and writhe. “Fuck,” he cries out.

 

“Baby boy?” guesses Zayn, lips soft, voice rough.

 

“Yes,” sighs Liam, licking over his bottom lip, pressing Zayn closer to him, so their wrists are trapped between them.

 

“My beautiful boy, come on baby, come in your pretty pink panties.” Zayn breathes hot and low over Liam’s skin.  “Liam, god, come on, baby. You lovely, dirty boy.”

 

“Zayn, I need-” says Liam, whining over Zayn’s hot skin, slipping their lips together, making sweet little noises against Zayn’s lips.

 

Zayn kisses Liam’s hot, swollen lips, scratching pink lines down Liam’s back as he trails his fingernails down, and plays with the waistband below the dip of the dimples at the base of Liam’s spine.

 

“C’mon, Zee,” breathes Liam against Zayn’s lips, pressing his arse back against Zayn’s hand, as he slicks their tongues together. Zayn’s fingertips slip under the waistband of his delicate panties, parting Liam’s cheeks to slide over his hole. Liam makes a cut-off noise into Zayn’s mouth, shivering in Zayn’s arms.

 

“Soon as I get you spread out on the bed, I’m gonna get my fingers in you, Li,” promises Zayn, soothing his fingers in slow circles over the clenching rim.

 

“Fuck,” Liam sobs into Zayn’s mouth, rutting frantically into Zayn’s palm the head of his cock trapped by the ruffled waistband of his panties, and slicking between their stomachs easily.

 

“Beautiful,” Zayn praises between kisses, “feel so good in my hand, Liam, fuck, come on, soak yourself with it.”

 

“Shit, shit, _fuck_ ,” Liam gasps, broad shoulders hunching in against Zayn, and Zayn, presses him closer, holds him up as he shudders, stomach clenching. “ _Zayn_ ,” he moans, high pitched and out of his mind with it, “I’m fucking coming, _shit_.”

 

Liam’s dick twitches between them, getting the head of Zayn’s dick messy with come as he  pants with flushed cheeks and a self-conscious smile.

 

“That was mad,” says Zayn, slowly pulling his hand from between their bodies, and rotating his wrist a bit.

 

“Um,” says Liam, and then ducks his head. “M’sorry. That was really rude of me, I-”

 

“Oi,” Zayn says, sweet smile on his mouth. “Shut it, babe. That was sick. So fucking hot, Liam.”

 

They help each other out of the tub. Zayn feels a bit silly with his dick out, and ridiculously hard. It keeps bumping Liam’s hip, and Liam keeps giggling as he dries Zayn off, kissing him softly between thorough sweeps of the thick towel.

 

“Careful of your camera, Zee,” warns Liam, nudging Zayn with his hip out of the way, when Zayn almost steps on it.

 

“Shit,” Zayn says vehemently. He scoops it up, flicking it on, and scanning consideringly through the first couple of pictures. When he presses the home screen, his dick comes into view, hard and red, and leaking a bit at the slit.

 

“Zee, let me get you off,” Liam is saying, crowding in closer with a softening cock, still trapped in the wet ruffles as Liam curls his hand around Zayn’s dick.

 

It looks really good, the panties and Zayn’s gun tattoo, and Zayn’s dick, angry-red, and Liam’s careful hand wrapped around him, twisting at the head so well that it makes Zayn’s knees almost give out. He snaps a picture, instead.

 

He glances up, wide-eyed, when Liam tightens his hand around Zayn’s dick in surprise. “S’that okay?” says Zayn, frozen with the camera in his hands.

 

“It’s your prick,” says Liam, still looking a little disoriented.

 

“Yeah, but it’s your hand, like,” he shrugs.

 

“Shut it,” says Liam with a grin, giving Zayn one last kiss, before tugging him into the bedroom, and pressing him back onto the bed, camera still clutched in Zayn’s hands.

 

He raises the camera and snaps a picture.

 

_[Liam standing at the foot of the bed, bright grin on his face, crinkles by his eyes, hair fallen from his usual fauxhawk into a curly mess. He stands on uneven feet, easy and open, cock soft. Damp panties to match his pink, pink lips and nipples]_

 

“Hop up on the bed, babe,” says Zayn. “You’re too far away.”

 

He peers through the sight as Liam crawls over to him. Liam’s smile is slightly self conscious as he curves his back to spread hot kisses over the insides of Zayn’s thighs. Zayn parts them, happy to slide his foot up the bed, propping his knee up to give Liam more room.

 

Another picture.

 

_[The sweet curve of Liam’s arse all done up in pale pink ruffles, the broad stretch of his shoulders and the soft-gold curve of his neck as he ducks between Zayn’s legs to suck a mark at Zayn’s hipbone. A few stray water droplets spill down the curve of his spine while he mouths happily at the base of Zayn’s cock.]_

 

Another.

 

_[Kissing up Zayn’s stomach, corner of his smile visible as he tries to hide it from the camera, a bit shy, muscles of his shoulders bunched, preparing to push himself up, level with Zayn. His birthmark is caught up in the twist of his neck. His eyes are squeezed shut with the force of his smile. His lips are red and slicked and lovely.]_

 

Another. Another. Another.

 

_[Blurry; Liam’s pink tongue on Zayn’s pec, the flash of Zayn’s dark nipple in Liam’s red mouth. The scruff-softened angle of Liam’s jaw.]_

 

_[Liam looking up past the lens, lips rounded like he’s saying something. Darkening eyes and a little smirk, fingers curled at the edge of the frame, thumb on Zayn’s ribs.]_

 

_[Liam’s throat, his birthmark somehow slowed to sharp relief amidst the blur of the jostled shot.]_

 

“All of those pictures are going to be shit,” says Liam, kissing over Zayn’s jaw, hand between them to curl around Zayn’s dick, tugging him nice and rough and slow.

 

“S’your fault for being so fucking distracting,” says Zayn. He squirms under the unrelenting grip on his dick, depositing his camera softly in the duvet beside them.

 

“Can’t help it, really,” says Liam, squeezing slightly under the head of Zayn’s dick as he slicks his fist over Zayn’s cock.

 

“Oh fuck,” breathes Zayn, palms sliding over Liam’s warm skin to grab his arse under the thin stretch of the panties.

 

“Christ, darling,” murmurs Liam, and the endearment has Zayn sparking hot all over his skin, a little wrecked noise dropping from his lips, “please.”

 

“Need my fingers?” says Zayn, shins curling around the backs of Liam’s knees, one dry finger sliding over Liam’s hole.

 

“You did say,” says Liam, between trading hot kisses over Zayn’s lips, “something about making me come again.”

 

“Get up against the headboard, then, love,” suggests Zayn, giving Liam one last tap on the arse, before pulling back and watching him get into position, finger splayed against the headboard, back arched, thighs parted, forehead pressed against the wall as he waits.

 

“That’s a good lad,” praises Zayn quietly, fitting himself against Liam’s back, tucking his hand down the front of Liam’s panties to play with his half-hard cock. The hot moan that Liam sighs out when Zayn gets a hand around him has Zayn huffing a laugh over the nape of Liam’s neck.

 

Zayn drops open-mouthed kisses over the curl of Liam’s shoulder-blades, before parting with him briefly to rummage through the bedside drawer and pulling out a small bottle of lube, half empty.

 

Zayn doesn’t make a remark, but he does get a little dizzy at the thought of Liam spread out over these sheets, fucking up into his fist with a slick sound like a desperate teenager, or sitting back hard on his own fingers with a rough little whimper, wriggling as he tries to pull his fingertips over his own prostate.

 

Zayn gets the lube open when Liam makes a soft impatient noise, and slicks his fingers up with it, thumbing at the gel until it warms up. “Ready?” he says over the back of Liam’s neck.

 

“Christ,” says Liam, wiggling back against him, “it’s only fingers, get on with it.”

 

Zayn giggles, tugging Liam’s pretty panties aside and sliding his fingers between Liam’s cheeks, middle finger catching on Liam’s tight rim, free hand pressing softly at the dimples on his back, prompting him to arch his spine, putting his hole on display. Liam exhales a shaky whimper, and complies.

 

Zayn bites his lip when he pushes his finger in. Liam is fucking tight and sweet and slick around his first, then second knuckle, clenching around Zayn maddeningly when he twists his middle finger all the way in.

 

“Fuck, you’ve got long fingers,” says Liam, sounding revrent.

 

“Need another one, babe?” prompts Zayn, and tugs Liam’s ear between his teeth to watch him stutter, fingers clenching against the headboard.

 

“Zee,” says Liam, wiggling his arse back on the single finger.

 

“Alright, gonna give you what you need, love,” says Zayn. He presses a second one in, twisting them in and out. His hand rests on Liam’s hip, thumb stretching the opening of the panties to give himself room, pressing down with his palm to aid the pretty curve of Liam’s back and the greedy way Liam’s rim pushes and pulls over the rough drag of Zayn’s knuckles.

 

“Why don’t you help me, baby,” suggests Zayn against the side of Liam’s throat. Liam gasps as Zayn drags his teeth lightly over the skin, that hitch of breath over a hot moan making Zayn’s cock twitch, wet and leaking, over the small of Liam’s back. “C’mon.” He catches one of Liam’s hands from where it’s pressed against the headboard, and pulls it to his mouth, pushing two of the fingers between his lips and over the heat of his tongue. Zayn moans around them, lips tightening in a smile at Liam’s answering groan.

 

He lets them fall from between his lips, and then gently guides Liam’s wrist to hover over Liam’s arse. “Push a finger in, babe,” he says, “wanna see you stretch yourself.”

 

Liam makes a noise that sounds like it’s been wrenched from the back of his throat as Zayn helps guide his finger in between the two others that Zayn already has buried in the smooth heat of him.

 

“Oh fuck,” grunts Liam, tilting his head back against Zayn’s shoulder, eyelids fluttering shut “ _yes_.”

 

“Stretch yourself out, babe,” says Zayn, hot over Liam’s throat, stroking a warm palm down Liam’s chest, thumb tracing the tensing indents of his abs.

 

Liam makes a beautiful, wounded sound when he tugs at his own rim, slicking his finger in and out in time with Zayn’s slow, thorough thrusts. “Oh fuck,” whimpers Liam, forehead creased, lips parted and wet and swollen. “Fuck that feels so good, Zee.”

 

Zayn presses his smile into Liam’s sweat-sheened shoulder, loving the view down Liam’s body; gleaming chest, fuzz of hair down to those pink panties, all stretched and thin around the red head of Liam’s cock, which is standing up all hard and leaking, desperate between his tensing thighs.

 

“You look so good,” murmurs Zayn, almost breathless with the way Liam writhes back against the fingers stuffed in his arse. “My beautiful boy, yeah? So good for me.”

 

“Fuck, yeah. Yours, Zee, _please_.” Liam’s breathing pattern is choppy and hot on Zayn’s cheek, Zayn’s fingers splaying over his stomach to feel the way the muscles contract under his palm.

 

Zayn crooks his fingers on either side of Liam’s thicker one, and sucks in a shaky breath as he slides his fingers out so very slowly, sliding over the velvet-hot clutch of Liam’s pretty arse, until he bumps over Liam’s prostate, and Liam _sobs_ , thighs jerking as he arches his back in a beautiful curve.

 

“Zayn,” he gulps, arse fluttering desperately around Zayn’s fingers, “oh _Zayn_.” His dick twitches in the stretch of his ruffled panties.

 

“Look at your pretty dick, baby,” says Zayn, sliding his hand down Liam’s stomach to slip under the waistband of the panties, knuckles under that sweet little bow, to get a hand around Liam. “God you feel so fucking good.” He twists his fingers over Liam’s prostate, rubbing little circles around it that have Liam hiccuping for breath.

 

“Fuck me,” Liam gasps, pulling his finger out and fucking back onto Zayn’s. “Please, Zee, come on.”

 

“D’you need it, baby?” says Zayn, still working unrelenting fingertips over Liam’s prostate, loving how he shivers, muscles quivering where he’s pressed his chest against the headboard, too overwhelmed to hold himself up anymore.

 

“Shit,” whines Liam, arching his back further to take Zayn’s fingers deeper. “Fuck, please, please fuck me, I need-” he gasps as Zayn thumbs over the messy head of his cock, “need t’be full.”

 

“Fuck, yeah, of course, love,” says Zayn, pressing hot little kisses over Liam’s neck and over the curve of his shoulder. “Gonna give you my dick, fill my good boy up, yeah?”

 

“Yes, yes, _yes_ ,” pleads Liam. He makes a lonely little noise when Zayn takes his fingers out and leaves him empty and clenching around nothing.

 

“Give us a mo’, yeah?” says Zayn, “you got condoms in here?” he asks, rummaging around in the drawer again.

 

“Yeah, come on,” says Liam impatiently, bracing himself properly against the headboard, neck curved as he presses his hot cheek to the cool wood.

 

“Alright, alright,” says Zayn, little smile sitting pretty on his swollen lips. He gets the condom on with slightly shaking hands, and has to shut his eyes tight when he slicks himself up, so as not to mark up Liam’s stretched hole with come. The panties are warped in shape and hang open, the cheap material all bent out of proportion.

 

Zayn palms one of Liam’s arse cheeks, holding it open so he can slick the head of his cock over Liam’s swollen rim.

 

“Christ, come on,” Liam says, sounding a bit calmer now, but his voice wavers.

 

“M’just enjoying the moment, babe,” says Zayn, with a stupid grin on his face, and before Liam can open his mouth to reply, he’s pushing in, tip sliding Liam’s arse open and pink and sweet as he takes Zayn’s dick, the stretch of it making him tilt his head back and moan for it.

 

It’s not until Zayn’s sharp hips are pressed to Liam’s arse that Zayn reaches around to squeeze the heft of Liam’s cock through the panties.

 

“Oh my god,” breathes Liam, grinding back on Zayn’s dick in little circles of hips. “I’m-” he lets out a deep moan, rolling his forehead against the headboard.

 

“Want me to move, Li?” Zayn asks, hands smoothing down the curve of Liam’s spine.

 

“Yes, now,” begs Liam, and his bottom lip drops from between his teeth when Zayn dicks into him with a long thrust, and he gasps.

 

“You’re taking my dick so well, baby, m’baby boy. Leaking all over your panties again. Bit of a slut, aren’t you, love?” says Zayn words dropping from his lips unprecedented as he watches the slick drag of his dick stretching Liam so wide and pink around him, shiny with lube.

 

Liam only moans in response, exhaling something that might have been a small ‘ _yeah_ ’ with his eyes squeezed shut.

 

“Yeah?” says Zayn lowly, lips on Liam’s hot skin, “my beautiful little slut, you gonna come on my dick, baby boy?” He’s just cupping Liam’s cock, not moving his hand, only letting Liam rut up into it, the cheap fabric of the panties rubbing over the slicked head.

 

Liam chokes on a moan, hand flying back to grab Zayn’s hip closer to him. “More,” he groans, arching back on Zayn’s cock.

 

“Course,” says Zayn, speeding up his thrust with a slap of his hips, Liam’s fingers digging into his hipbones as he moans, writhing back against Zayn. “Give you what you need, Li.”

 

“Oh shit,” cries out Liam when the thick head of Zayn’s cock slides over his prostate, and Zayn’s brow furrows, lip plush between his teeth as he tries to keep the angle, has Liam yelling for it, harsh moans vibrating from Liam’s throat. “Fuck,” says Liam wetly, sounding surprised. “M’gonna come, shit, _Zee_ , you’re gonna make me come again.”

 

“Baby, you’re doing so good,” says Zayn, giving Liam’s cock a good few strokes, “gonna come all over yourself already?”

 

“Mhmm,” moans Liam, eyes squeezed shut, lips parted in a blissed smile.

 

“Get your pretty panties all messy, baby, just for me, yeah?” Zayn says, breath hot over Liam’s throat as Liam grinds up into his palm desperately. “Get my hand all wet, and you can lick it off my fingers, be my good boy,” promises Zayn, voice low and rough. “So pretty with you squeezin’ on my dick, Liam. And how about we get you some new panties,” he grunts with a particularly hard thrust at the thought, “maybe a lovely little bra to hold your tits, nipples all wet from my mouth and tucked behind some lace?”

 

“Zayn, Zee, I-” gasps out Liam. He lets out a harsh string of curses, arse contracting so tight and hot as he starts to come, thighs shaking, stomach tensing, dick twitching in his panties, come soaking a spot in the front of them. “ _Oh_ ,” sighs Liam deeply, shivering as he lets himself come apart on Zayn’s dick, slumping backwards to take it deeper when he’s stopped twitching hot come all over himself. “Shit,” he says, hoarse. “C’mon, fuck me deeper, babe, come on Zee.”

 

Zayn peels down the front of the waistband of the panties, tucking it under Liam’s balls so it doesn’t dry all over him, and then resumes thrusting, kissing madly over Liam’s skin; his jaw, the muscled curve of his shoulder, his birthmark, the tendons of his neck. Zayn has his mouth hot on Liam’s skin when he comes with a deep groan, teeth sinking into Liam’s shoulder, eliciting a soft whimper from Liam, and a mild twitch of his hips and his softening cock up into the air against nothing.

 

“Yeah?” breathes Zayn after a pause, hands on Liam’s hips, panting over his skin.

 

Liam giggles, fingertips slipping over Zayn’s to cup his hands. “Yeah,” he replies, sleepy, blissed smile to match Zayn’s. Their smiles align when Liam tilts his head to fit their lips together a bit clumsily, Zayn still deep inside of Liam.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT:
> 
> I deleted my 1d blog a while ago and am just getting around to changing it on my fics sorry about that!
> 
> Anyway you can find me @weighted-orange if u like idk how to link it I'm on my phone rn 
> 
> I had a lot of fun writing this even tho the summary still makes me cringe rip


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